


i think its called love

by MayWilder



Series: justify my existence [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jon Snow is NOT a Stark, R Plus L Equals J, Stark Family, anti-Rhaegar, i guess?, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: As her daughter bustles from the room, Jon remains behind. He stares at Elia with that knowing look in his eyes she’s come to realize must have been from Lyanna. Rhaegar never saw what was right in front of him—or never cared to. “There’s more, isn’t there? I remember when I came across you in the library. The way you looked at those pictures…you knew my mother. Were you just enchanted by her or were you…well, did you know her? Intimately?”--otherwise known as, "How many revelations can happen over the Christmas holiday?"





	i think its called love

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the UK is basically replaced with Westeros and Spain is replaced with Dorne. This is technically the same universe as my "i'll dry your tears" stories.

Elia is sitting in her too-large chambers of the Red Keep. She reads her book by the fireplace and huddles against the cold. She thinks it might be time to visit Oberyn in Dorne. Or perhaps he can come to King’s Landing—he always seems to bring warmth with him.

 

Her thoughts are interrupted when a firm knocking comes at the door. Daenerys walks in, all elegance and beauty and looking so much like Rhaegar that it’s startling. According to Rhaegar’s will, the line of succession meant that she took the throne instead of his and Elia’s only surviving daughter, Rhaenys. Rhaenys is thrilled she won’t have to be queen until her aunt passes away—which will likely be a very long time. Daenerys is stubborn enough to live forever.

 

“Dany,” Elia says with a small smile. “How are you?”

 

“I am quite well, dear sister,” Dany says, and she looks to be. There’s a slight flush in her cheeks and something akin to excitement in the way she tries not to smile. This warmth is what separates the queen from her late brother. “I was going through some things that Rhaegar left for me, and I have news that may not be easy for you to hear but is good for our family. Good for Rhaenys.”

 

Elia closes her book and sits up at attention.

 

“Rhaegar, ages ago, fathered a son to a woman named Lyanna Dayne. When Rhaegar said he didn’t want to cause scandal, Lyanna changed her last name to Snow and moved north.”

 

 _Lyanna Dayne._ The name rings sharp in Elia’s memory, old feelings and frustrations flaring up. Lyanna and Elia were close. She knew, all those years ago, that Rhaegar’s attentions on the other woman were unwelcome, but that Lord Dayne pushed Lyanna towards the young king any chance he had. The man manipulated Lyanna on many occasions. It was never her choice to bed Rhaegar—Lord Dayne said if she did not, she would never see her brother and sister again.

 

“That poor girl,” Elia says softly, revealing nothing. Her brow furrows. “How is that good for the family? Rhaegar has been dead for only a few months, and most of the people were fond of him.”

 

“Perhaps,” Dany agrees. “But I wasn’t thinking about publicity. I mean that there is only three of us left, Elia. Rhaenys is the only Targaryen I have, and you know I will never be able to have children. After losing Drogo, Viserys, Aegon, and now Rhaegar…we have another family member. He’s older than Rhaenys, and I’ve had him looked into for the past few days. He’s an upstanding young man. He’s got good friends and a good job. Rhaenys has a brother, I have a nephew, you have…whatever you wish for him to be to you.”

 

Elia does not answer. She looks up and sees the hope in her sister-in-law’s eyes and nods. Dany clasps her hands together, which is as excited as she genuinely gets.

 

“Excellent,” she says happily. “I thought it might be best for you and me to visit him first. He can be somewhere he’s comfortable, and we don’t have to get Rhaenys’ hopes up if he doesn’t want to be part of our lives.”

 

“That’s so kind of you,” Elia says. She holds hands with Dany and thinks that the other woman is right. It’s a good thing that will grow their family.

 

 _Oh, Lyanna…_ Elia thinks sadly. _Why did you not tell me?_

 

**)-(**

 

They take the jet up north, where Jon Snow is staying with the Stark family for the holidays. To the public, Dany is visiting all of the major regions of the kingdom for her first Christmas as queen. Being the most prominent nobility in the north, the Starks naturally open their ancestral home for the royal family to stay in.

 

It’s a beautiful fortress. All stone and dark towers, it’s got a very gothic feel that somehow still enchants Elia. It’s clear that Catelyn Stark strives to make it a warm place. There are fairy lights and Christmas decorations, candles and red flowers and evergreen branches. It calls to Elia and she thinks she’s glad this is the kind of place Lyanna’s son grew up in.

 

They’re taken to the front of the castle, where the Starks await them. Elia and Dany exit the car and are greeted by Lord Stark.

 

“Your Majesty,” he says with a bow. “Your Highness. It is our honor to host you in our home. I hope you’ll find it to your liking.”

 

Dany’s eyes graze over the Starks, just as Elia’s do. Jon is nowhere to be seen. “I’m sure I will, Lord Stark. Will you introduce me to your family?”

 

“Of course.” Stark motions for them to come forward. His wife smiles graciously and bows. “This is my wife, Catelyn. Our eldest son Robb and his husband, Theon; our daughter Sansa; our daughter Arya, and her husband Gendry; our two youngest sons, Bran and Rickon.”

 

They all bow.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Dany says diplomatically. “If I may introduce my sister-in-law, Duchess Elia.”

 

Dany loves her family—she will not have two queens, however, and Elia has been demoted since Rhaegar’s death.

 

She doesn’t mind.

 

“Thank you for welcoming us into your home, Lady Stark,” Elia says softly. “It’s decorated beautifully. I must speak with your decorator.”

 

“Thank you, Your Highness, but I personally oversee all decorations,” Catelyn replies. She gestures to her daughter. “Sansa was quite helpful this year.”

 

“Well you both deserve recognition,” Dany assures them.

 

“Would you like to rest before dinner?” Catelyn offers. “We can have tea or cider brought to your rooms if you wish.”

 

“I think I might like a tour of the grounds,” Dany mentions. “Elia?”

 

They planned on the drive from the airport for Dany to be on the grounds in hopes that Jon will be more comfortable walking around the castle if Dany isn’t there. Elia will take her tea in her room and then tour the castle in hopes of finding him. “I might have some tea and change into something more comfortable, if that’s not too inconvenient?”

 

“Not at all,” Catelyn smiles. “Sansa, would you show Princess Elia to her room?”

 

“Of course.” Sansa steps forward. She offers her arm to Elia, who takes it gratefully. The girl looks gentle, dressed in jeans and a sweater that is extraordinarily soft under Elia’s hand. She smiles over at Elia. “Was your flight pleasant?”

 

“Yes,” Elia says. “The snow is beautiful up close, but I enjoyed the view over the mountains as we passed. Do you like the snow?”

 

“It is my favorite thing in the world,” Sansa breathes. They walk up the steps of the great hall and turn left. “When I was young, I used to want to escape the snow. When I moved south, however, I missed it. Coming home and seeing big, fluffy flakes makes my heart sing. I love the sight, the smell, the feel of it. I love sweaters and cider and—I’m so sorry. I get too excited about silly things sometimes.”

 

“Nonsense,” Elia tells her. Sansa looks embarrassed, so Elia gently squeezes her arm as they walk up a winding staircase. “I think it is important for one to cherish the small things in life. I love nothing in the world so much as the smell of my daughter’s perfume.”

 

Sansa giggles.

 

“It is true,” she sighs. “It makes me think of her, smiling and excited before a performance.”

 

“I saw Princess Rhaenys dance at the King’s Landing concert hall last spring,” Sansa says excitedly. “She’s absolutely incredible.”

 

“She is.” Elia is led down a hallway where she sees maids bustling out of a room. They curtsy as the pair pass. “Do you dance, Lady Sansa?”

 

“Please, just Sansa. And not professionally or anything. I know all the ballroom dances expected for balls and galas, and I believe I’m quite good, but ballet is…very far out of my league. I love to watch it, though. My mother was quite good, and she passed her love of it to me.”

 

“Yes, Rhaenys mentioned that your mother used to dance when I told her I was coming.”

 

Just then, they arrive in a spacious room. There is a sitting area, with plush chairs and a roaring fireplace. There is a desk by French windows and a bookshelf covered in antique novels. Sansa shows her the bedroom, which has its own attached bathroom. The walls are stone, the beds ornate and covered in greys and reds, and the carpets look almost as comfortable as the beds. Elia thinks it will be pleasant to stay here.

 

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable,” Sansa says then. “There’s an intercom by your bed. If you need anything, just click the red button and ask someone to send me.”

 

“Thank you, Sansa.” Elia kisses both of the girl’s cheeks. “I look forward to speaking with you more at dinner.”

 

Elia changes once Sansa is gone. She finds a pair of faded jeans and a heavy, knit sweater that she’s owned for years. Winterfell seems just the place to be a little less proper and a little more relaxed. So, she slides on a pair of fuzzy socks and waits for a large mug of peppermint tea to be brought to her room. She wraps it in her hands before making her way back into the hallway.

 

Assuming her current residence is a common place for rooms and suites, Elia decides that it would be too intrusive to wonder there. She finds her way back to the winding staircase and wonders around for a bit, looking either for Jon or some traces of him. She finds them when she gets to the library. There is a corner in the back of the large room where pictures of Christmases cover the wall. Elia sees Jon in every single one, as a baby being held by Lyanna, or a child tucked into Catelyn Stark’s side. There are pictures of him with his arms around Robb Stark and what looks like a young Theon. Sometimes, he has Arya in his lap or Rickon on his shoulders. Most recently, the children of the Starks are all in one photo. They’re surrounded by wrapping paper and some are wearing Santa hats. Jon specifically is laughing while Sansa is leaning in and speaking with a smile. It’s a candid photo, Elia can tell.

 

 _Such a handsome boy_ , she thinks. She can see Rhaegar’s chin and the shape of his eyes. There’s something about how he laughs with his teeth showing that reminds her of her late husband. If this boy had grown up in the fame of Lyanna’s family, so close to Rhaegar, it would have been obvious that he was his son.

 

_Ned Stark knows._

_Ned Stark knew Rhaegar well. Lyanna vacationed with him after she moved North._

_Ned and Catelyn Stark know who my stepson is. Did they know who Lyanna was to me?_

 

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

 

Elia jumps, pressing a hand to her chest. The voice is so much like Rhaegar she feels almost woozy. When she turns, Jon Snow is watching her hesitantly. “My goodness. Please forgive me.”

 

“No, I didn’t mean to scare you, it was my fault,” Jon says, hands up. He then looks embarrassed and drops into a quick bow. “I’m sorry, growing up around the Starks hasn’t given me quite the education of nobility that you would think.”

 

“It’s perfectly alright,” Elia says. “I’m not looking much like royalty right now, so I won’t tell anyone.”

 

“Looking like royalty isn’t about the clothes, right?” Jon offered. He has a half smile. “Look at Sansa; she’s practically a princess because of how she carries herself. I’m sure you’d look like a queen in joggers.”

 

Elia laughed. “You are too kind, darling. What is your name?”

 

_I already know everything about your life._

 

“Jon Snow,” he says. Walking forward, Jon points to the pictures. “I’ve known the Starks all of my life. That’s my mother, there—

 

“Lyanna,” Elia says softly. She looks at the long dark hair and moves to drink her tea. Jon is looking at her in confusion. “When I knew her, she was Lyanna Dayne. Sister to Ashara and Arthur. We were…friends, when I first moved to King’s Landing to marry Rhaegar. She was an ally at a court of people I did not know.”

 

“She was—you—

 

“She was nobility, yes.”

 

“Then the Starks must have known her before she moved here?”

 

“Not closely, I don’t think, if at all,” Elia says. “Lyanna only came to court because her family history goes back ages with mine.”

 

Jon is looking at her with wide eyes. “I didn’t…wow. She never told me or left me anything.”

 

Elia sighs and sets a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I think we should talk, dear.”

 

**)-(**

 

Jon is angry and confused at first. He can’t bring himself to resent the Starks, however, and forgives them after a long talk on how they’d been following Lyanna’s wishes of keeping him in the dark. He asks Elia why now, and she directs the question to Dany, who explains that they had no knowledge of his existence. Lyanna had disappeared from court years ago with no explanation. At the time, social media wasn’t something to worry about and slipping under the radar was much easier. The Starks assisted her in helping keep the spotlight away from her and her son.  

 

“So, my father knew I existed?”

 

Elia looks at her hands. “I’m afraid so. I did not, however, until Dany came to me. If I had known, I would have insisted on knowing you, on your siblings knowing you.”

 

“Siblings?” Jon gapes. “Prince Aegon, that fire…”

 

“Rhaenys is your only sister,” Dany nods. “She survived the fire that much of our family did not, and she’s always longed for a brother. She never really knew Aegon.”

 

“She dislikes being an only child.”

 

“And I would have loved to know I had more family,” Dany continues. “You owe us nothing, Jon. If you would rather not be part of our lives, we understand. If you do, however, I have plans. Rhaenys has no interest in the crown. You would be heir. I’d insist you take the name and spend some time with us. We’d have to do an interview to get ahead of the press, and Rhaenys would love to meet you, I’m sure.”

 

Dany pauses.

 

“You are our family, Jon. We would want you to be part of it.”

 

“You may have time to decide,” Elia adds gently. Jon’s eyes train on her and she realizes she can’t read his expression. Just like Lyanna, who used to be so skilled at keeping her expression collected among those at court. “We want you, Jon. But this is an important decision and we will not pressure you to uproot your life.”

 

“Why do you care?” Jon asks bluntly. Catelyn hisses his name, but Jon ignores her. “Shouldn’t you blame me? I’m not your son.”

 

“You would have been, had my husband not been an ass,” Elia says. Jon looks surprised at her curse. “I would have raised you and loved you as my own. You carry no fault for my husband’s decisions.”

 

Jon blinks at her. “You really would have chosen to love me?”

 

“If what I know of you so far is true, it would not have been a choice, but an instinct.”

 

Jon blinks at her and she sees a hint of a smile. “I’ll let you know this evening.”

 

Elia bids her sister-in-law and the Stark parents goodnight and thanks them for accepting her into their home. She then retires for the night.

 

**)-(**

 

Jon says yes.

 

“Why?” Arya pouts. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring. “You don’t need a new family, Jon, _we_ are your family.”

 

“I know that,” Jon says softly. “But I’m not a Stark. I’m a Snow, or a Targaryen, apparently. I love you all and you love me, but I’ve always felt that there’s more to me. I want to know where I come from. And I have a sister! I want to know her, at least.”

 

“Jon is still part of our family,” Sansa speaks firmly. “We should think of it as our family growing, not getting smaller.”

 

“Exactly,” Robb chirps. “Just like when you married Gendry and he became part of our family. Jon has three relatives—we can add them to our ranks.”

 

Arya rolls her eyes, but the pout lessens. “As long as you don’t like them more than us.”

 

They’re all sitting in Theon and Robb’s chambers. It’s late, so they all wear pajamas and drink decaf tea, but Jon wanted all the Starks together to hear his decision before he told the queen. Arya and Rickon are the only ones who seem openly displeased about it. Sansa is supportive of him as always, Bran is quiet, and Robb just wants Jon to be sure of what he wants. Theon looks like he’s the only one who understands.

 

“You have a family that wants to know you and love you,” he says gently. “That’s a good thing, and an opportunity you should take.”

 

“Thank you, Theon.” Jon nods. This viewpoint seems to make all the Starks supportive. They agree it’s late and time for bed, so they file out. Jon and Sansa’s rooms are on the other end of the corridor from everyone else’s, so Sansa leans into Jon’s side and he lets himself wrap an arm around her as they walk.

 

His relationship with Sansa has developed oddly over the years. He’s always been protective of her and her sweet nature. Even before he looked at her as someone gorgeous or strong, he carried a heavy affection for her. She has always liked caring for people, eating lemon desserts, and reading romantic novels. Ever the reader, it was one of the first things Jon truly bonded with her over. Somehow, along the talks about Austen and Bronte and her decision to go south for school, Jon realized he enjoyed her general company and wanted her around.

 

It wasn’t until after Joffrey’s mistreatment of her in the first few years she was gone that Jon realized the romantic feelings were there. He caught himself briefly thinking, _I could have treated her so much better_ , and the thought began to consume him.

 

Jon’s been steadily falling in love ever since.

 

When she returned home to heal from Joffrey’s abuse, she and Jon spent a lot of time together. She liked it when he read their favorite books to her. This led to many late nights reading and eventually just talking. Conversations moved from literary to casually social and into the personal. It felt like too soon when Sansa decided to go back to school and she confessed she would miss Jon’s easy and safe presence.

 

Jon called Mance and requested a transfer to the Highgarden editing office and moved into a flat ten minutes away from Sansa. He hid the truth of the transfer from her, too caught up in how pleased she was to see him. Though he had to learn to attend Tyrell parties and subject himself to the Tyrell twins and their fashion advice, he went along with it because he loved Sansa.

 

 _I still do,_ he thinks as she sighs and lays her head on his shoulder. _God, do I love her._

 

“I hope you’ll still be here for Christmas,” Sansa says lightly. “We’ve never had one without you. It wouldn’t feel right.”

 

“I’ll make sure we stay here,” he tells her. “I couldn’t go a single Christmas without your desserts, you know that.”

 

“Ah, so my evil plan to keep you around has worked.”

 

“Even though I know it’s all a trap, I’ll still keep coming back. The little lemon squares with lavender that you made yesterday literally changed my life. I think I’m religious now?”

 

Sansa giggles and the sound makes Jon’s stomach flip. They stop when they reach their doors, right across from one another. Jon goes about his usual process of kissing Sansa’s forehead goodnight. When he does so, he notices her biting her lip and pulls back.

 

“What is it, Sans?” he asks softly. She glances down at his feet before looking back up at him through eyelashes. “You know I don’t just like you for the dessert, yeah?”

 

“I know,” she answers. “I was just thinking…what if we invite your family to stay here for Christmas? Everyone could win, you know? We get you for Christmas, they get to know you, you don’t feel totally out of depth.”

 

“I could handle myself!”

 

Sansa arches an eyebrow.

 

“Alright, yeah, we can talk to your mum in the morning.”

 

Sansa flashes him one of her radiant smiles. Jon thinks the sun should just quit already because there’s no way it compares.

 

“I haven’t been sleeping much,” she says before he can say goodnight again. “Come read to me?”

 

Jon nods. “Yeah. For you, always.”

 

And so, Jon reads about King Arthur to Sansa as they lay in the bed in the low light. Sansa falls asleep with her head on Jon’s chest and he can’t be bothered to leave the room until he wakes up the next morning with the smell of her shampoo flooding his senses.

 

Its not a bad way to start his day, really.

 

**)-(**

 

The Starks invite Rhaenys, Elia, and Dany to Winterfell for the holiday. Catelyn tells Elia it’s so that Jon can get to know them in a place he’s comfortable, and so that the Stark children are not upset to spend the first Christmas away from Jon so abruptly. Elia thinks it is a splendid idea and calls her daughter to Winterfell.

 

She’s brimming with anticipation when Elia meets her in the rooms Sansa picked for the other girl. Elia knows that she’s nervous and excited because she wears her favorite dress and her lucky family pendant. In her hand is a wrapped gift.

 

“Christmas is not for another few days, darling,” Elia reminds her as they walk to the library. “This can wait.”

 

“I don’t want it to,” she says confidently. “This is important to me.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

When they enter the library, Jon is clearly nervous as well. He tilts the corner of his mouth up at Rhaenys and gives a small wave. “Hello.”

 

“Hi,” Rhaenys breathes. She glances at her mother before looking back to Jon. “I, erm, I brought you something.”

 

Jon looks pained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—

 

“No, no, I just couldn’t wait,” she hurries to explain. “Please, this isn’t a formality or anything. Its just my way of saying ‘Welcome.’ I’m not very good with actual words, I’m afraid.”

 

“Me either.” Jon looks relieved. He takes the offered package and carefully unwraps it. When he finds a velvet box, his brow furrows but he continues and pops it open. His eyes widen a bit and look up. “Rhaenys, this is…”

 

“I know you didn’t know him and love him like I did, but he’s the only connection we have right now. And he made mistakes, but he loved me, and I loved him. These rubies, they’re from his ceremonial armor from his coronation.”

 

“We learned about it in school,” Jon murmurs, looking back down again. “Each king or queen has armor custom made for the ceremony. It’s a tradition going back for ages.”

 

“Exactly. When I was little, he had a pendant and a ring made for me. He said the rubies represented the blood that binds us and the love in our hearts. This is for you, from me. We aren’t close, but I hope we will be. It might represent the blood that binds us and my hope for the love to develop between us.”

 

When Jon pulls the jewelry from the box, Elia sees that it’s two dark silver rings. Each has rubies glinting in the light.

 

“I had them made when Mum called to tell me about you.”

 

Elia refuses to cry, but she lets Jon see her emotion when he looks at her. She nods in encouragement and he puts them on, one on each middle finger. When he speaks his voice is tight. “They fit perfectly.”

 

“Mum checked with Lady Sansa.”

 

Jon looks confused and touched. He puts the box down and clears his throat. “Is it weird for me to hug you?”

 

Rhaenys, tears sparkling in her eyes, shakes her head. The two embrace, a little awkwardly at first, but soon seeming more comfortable as Rhaenys squeezes and takes a few shaky breaths. When they pull apart, Rhaenys wipes her eyes and Jon sniffs. He looks at his sister with an emotion Elia still cannot place. “So, the Starks have an annual snowball tournament. We normally draw names, but I thought you and I might join forces. If that’s something you might…I dunno, like to do with me?”

 

Rhaenys wordlessly nods again and reaches for his hand. Jon smiles at her and Elia’s heart warms.

 

It’s later when Elia is reading in front of her fireplace that a knock comes to her door. She calls for the person to enter and is not surprised when Jon walks into her sitting room.

 

“Jon,” she says pleasantly. “It’s lovely to see you.”

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

 

“Not at all. Please, sit.”

 

Jon does so, though he remains stiff and on the edge of the seat. Elia closes her book and gives her full attention to the young man. He swallows and shifts before speaking. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know what people in your position would have done, but the way you’ve said you want to take me in…it’s touching, truly. The Starks have always been the only people who ever did that. None of them had the wrongdoing done to them, either.”

 

“I don’t feel wronged by you, Jon,” Elia reminds him. “You are a good young man. I mourn the years we were not able to know you, but I do not resent my husband, your mother, or you. There is no sense in being angry about things that happened years ago, especially when the result is having someone as wonderful a young man as you in our family.”

 

Elia thinks his cheeks darken, but he ducks his head.

 

“I am not trying to be your mother, Jon. I would never presume such a position. Even if you’d never known Lyanna, Lady Catelyn has done a marvelous job raising you and loving you. I see no need for me to step in and lay claim. That is not what I’m trying to do. I’m merely asking you to give me a chance. We are not linked by blood, but I believe we could be linked by something more powerful: choice.”

 

Jon looks up and remains silent.

 

“However, it has only been a few days. This is so much to process, and I believe Rhaenys should be your first priority. She already loves you, as if you’ve grown up together, and I would not deny you both the focus of that relationship.”

 

Now, Jon smiles at the mention of his sister.

 

“May I ask what’s on your mind?” Elia presses. “I don’t think you came here just to thank me.”

 

“I suppose I want to know you as well,” Jon confesses. “I don’t regret my life because of the home I found with the Starks. I still missed out on you, however, and that doesn’t seem fair. None of this is fair, obviously.”

 

Elia takes his hand and smiles at him. “It’s not. And I would like to know you, Jon. And we have all the time in the world. For tonight, why don’t we speak about books? I hear you read and write. What started it?”

 

And so, they talk.

 

**)-(**

 

Jon meets with his aunt the next morning to discuss his future. She’s nice enough, he realizes, and is openly warm to him and Elia. She speaks with a charming smile and a firmness in her decisions. Though she holds no political power, she is loved by the people as she represents the crown and is a queen who cares about her people.

 

Jon thinks that in another life, she might have been a good queen with political power.

 

They discuss the fact that Rhaenys does not wish to inherit the throne. If Jon is legitimized by Dany, he will be the next in line for the throne. It’s an intimidating idea, but Dany assures him that his military service and humble background make him perfect for the job. He will have full access to funds that allow the charity work he did with the Starks to increase. He will be able to marry for love and he will uphold honor and truth.

 

Jon thinks he can do that.

 

“There is some semblance of politics,” Dany warns him. “We are looked to for good foreign relations. You will have to learn to be okay with parties and politeness, even with people you’d rather not associate with. You understand that, yes?”

 

Jon thinks of his time in the military and nods. “Of course.”

 

“Excellent,” she smiles. “Now, I would like your approval to sit down and do a live interview. We want to get ahead of the story. We think the best time to announce your heritage will be the morning of the interview. That way, people will be more concerned with watching the all-access discussion rather than storming Winterfell.”

 

Jon makes a face.

 

“The press can be a nightmare,” Elia says gently. “I want you to be totally prepared for that.”

 

“I...believe I can learn.” He hopes he sounds believable.

 

“We know you can, darling.”

 

“And we will help,” Dany encourages. “Where would you like to do the interview?”

 

Jon looks surprised. “You’re letting me pick?”

 

“We want this as painless as possible,” Dany says lightly. “Where you are comfortable is where we should do it.”

 

“Between Christmas and the New Year,” Jon says suddenly. “Here, at Winterfell. The charity ball the Starks do every year will have more attention than ever if we’re all here.”

 

“That sounds wonderful.” Elia is smiling at him, almost seeming surprised. “What is the charity for this year?”

 

“That city in the States, the one that doesn’t have any clean water?”

 

Elia touches her heart. “That’s lovely, Jon. Dany?”

 

“I think that Elia and I will be there,” Dany smiles as well. “We’ll do it on the twenty-seventh. That gives us enough time for your final assignment: any skeletons in your closet, or anything resembling skeletons, must be taken care of.”

 

Jon purses his lips and thinks. “You should give Tyrion Lannister a call. He’s Robb’s manager and PR consultant and has kept tabs on us for ages. When Robb first hired him, he personally looked excessively into the backgrounds of the entire family. If there is anything I can’t think of, he will know it.”

 

Dany seems pleased on his forward thinking. “You have a good head on your shoulder, Jon.”

 

He shifts as his neck heats.

 

“We’re done for the day,” she continues. She pauses before saying. “Rhaenys loves Christmas and gift-giving. She might be fun to take Christmas shopping if you haven’t gone already.”

 

Jon nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll see you all for dinner?”

 

“Of course. Thank you for having breakfast with us.”

 

Jon doesn’t know what to say. A ‘You’re Welcome’ feels odd as a response, so he just nods awkwardly once more before leaving his aunt’s chambers to find Sansa and Rhaenys where he last saw them talking quietly over morning tea. Now, when he walks into Sansa’s chambers, she is sitting with her legs draped over Rhaenys’ lap while they scroll together on her phone, giggling and smiling and talking. “Jon used to try to help me cook and it was a complete disaster. Oh! Here’s a video.”

 

Jon wonders when they’ll notice him. He also wonders what video it is until—

 

Rhaenys cackles. “So that’s what happens when you sneeze into a bowl of flour!”

 

“Oi!” Jon says from his place leaning against the door. They both look up in surprise and delight. “I was going to see if you two wanted to go shopping, but if this is how you’d like to spend your day...”

 

Rhaenys and Sansa both scramble to their feet. The latter wraps her robe more securely around herself. “I think if you give us thirty minutes you’ll find we could spend the day shopping.”

 

“I agree,” Rhaenys nods. She looks like she gets an idea and steps towards Jon. “It’s early enough that we could fly over to Paris and back before dinner if we leave soon.”

 

Sansa’s eyes light up. “Really?”

 

“Can we get enough tickets in time?” Jon frowns. “And security...”

 

“Private jet, Jon,” Rhaenys says with a giggle. “We have one sitting in the airport twenty minutes away. I can call right now, and they’ll have it ready is less than an hour.”

 

Sansa looks so excited that Jon can’t say no. “If it’s alright, I’ll go tell the others?”

 

“Perfect, I’ll phone the pilot.”

 

Jon begins to think he has no self-control.

 

**)-(**

 

Paris is brilliant. The Stark children (plus Jon and Rhaenys) spend the morning shopping, break for lunch, and continue shopping and sightseeing until they need to leave. Jon finds presents he feels the Starks are worthy of and is proud that he can afford them now. He’s eager to give Sansa’s to her, and wonders if it should be a private gift.

 

Rhaenys thinks so.

 

He even buys something for Dany and Elia, with Rhaenys’ help. When he learns how much Dany likes horses, he knows the place in Winterfell to go to find only the best and calls to make an appointment. For Elia, he and Rhaenys found a signed, First Edition _Three Exemplary Novels_ by Miguel de Unamuno. It’s written in Dornish and a little frail looking, but Jon has learned that Elia’s love for classic books is as strong as his own. He thinks she’ll like it.

 

(He also buys a Rosetta Stone set for speaking Dornish. He wants to make an extra effort for Elia, as she makes extra effort for him.)

 

He takes Sansa to find a gift for Rhaenys. What to get a young ballet dancer who has everything she could want at her fingertips? Sansa suggested ballet shoes worn and signed by a famous dancer. While in Paris, they snuck away and found an auction happening for Christmas. There, in the auction, were a pair of shoes worn and signed by Dame Ninette de Valois. According to Sansa, the woman died in 2001 and these shoes were very valuable.

 

Jon bought them with money from his birth mother’s inheritance.

 

“You know that you don’t need to do so much, right?” Sansa reminds him as they head back to the airport to meet the others. “I don’t think they want to be bought.”

 

“No,” Jon says. “But I want to give them something that shows how I pay attention and care and am invested in them.”

 

Sansa smiles and takes Jon’s hand.

 

Paris is brilliant.

 

**)-(**

 

Christmas comes with ease. Tyrion tells Dany that Jon Snow has nothing of import to hide and that his most embarrassing information includes pictures from a play he participated in during his school years. Dany is pleased and calls to set up an interview for ‘a mysterious purpose that will later be revealed.’

 

Elia watches Rhaenys and Jon grow close in a matter of days. They win the Stark Snowball Tournament, which brings laughter and cheer from Rhaenys that Elia doesn’t believe she’s ever seen. Come to think of it, Elia doesn’t think a group of people have ever had such an effect on her daughter.

 

Rhaenys loves the Starks.

 

Elia sort of does as well.

 

She gets to spend time with Ned and Catelyn over the days leading up to Christmas. They’re pleasant people when they warm up to someone and are willing to share a multitude of stories about Jon. Elia listens eagerly, discusses dance with Catelyn, literature with Ned, and politics with them both. Elia sees pieces of Jon in both of them and is glad he grew up thinking of Ned as a father figure, rather than Rhaegar. Ned Stark was a better role model, and Lyanna was smart for becoming close with them.

 

Christmas morning, Elia is awakened by Rhaenys coming into her room with a brilliant smile. “The Starks like to open presents all together, under their tree. Leave your pajamas on.”

 

Dany is in the doorway, yawning. “I wouldn’t bother fighting, Elia. She’s quite insistent this morning.”

 

Elia sighs and listens to her daughter. She finds her softest robe to wrap around herself and leaves it at that, running a hand through her hair and thinking it’s just a little too much excitement for her.

 

Her mind is changed, however, when she walks into the Stark’s living room.

 

Ned and Catelyn dismiss their staff for three days every Christmas, so Catelyn and Sansa take care of cooking. On a table near the fireplace is an array of croissants, fruit, eggs, and sausage. She sees that there is hot milk for hot chocolate and an entire station for tea.

 

There are presents and children everywhere. The room is warm, the smells are delightful, and Rhaenys is beaming with joy from her spot next to her brother. Elia couldn’t be happier.

 

She finds a seat next to Dany in a large and cushioned chair. Jon silently brings her a cup of hot chocolate and a croissant.

 

“There’s cinnamon in the hot chocolate,” he says, blushing. “I noticed you add it the other evening.”

 

“Thank you, Jon,” Elia says, touched. “Happy Christmas.”

 

He colors and places fruit in Dany’s lap. “You don’t drink anything for breakfast.”

 

“I do not,” Dany replies with a hint of a smile and affection all over her face. “Thank you, nephew.”

 

He nods once and places himself back beside Rhaenys. They clink their mugs of hot chocolate together and sit in what looks to be companionable silence.

 

“It’s good to see her so happy,” Dany murmurs. “It makes me thrilled and angry with my brother at the same time.”

 

“Yes,” Elia admits quietly. “We’ve been deprived of Jon for so long. He’s thoughtful and charming and intelligent. Rhaegar would have loved him if he’d been given the chance.”

 

Dany sighs. “What a fool.”

 

Presents become the priority. Robb’s husband, Theon, dons a Santa hat and passes presents out in what seems to be choreographed order. It’s a long morning, full of wrapping paper and laughter, and Elia hopes their futures are full of this.

 

She’s surprised when Catelyn presents her with a large photo album. Jon’s entire life is laid before Elia and Dany’s eyes, with handwritten notes on what each picture is and why it’s significant. Elia has no words, only thanking the woman and wiping her eyes. She feels this is some sort of blessing, that the other woman doesn’t feel threatened by Elia and instead truly welcomes her.

 

Jon’s presents for them are very well thought-out. Dany gasps in delight when Jon shows her pictures of a young mare that he’s going to take Dany to meet in person the following day. She’s beautiful, all white with a gold mane and tail, and Dany says she’s the most beautiful horse she’s ever seen. Elia is given the First Edition copy of a very famous set of Dornish novellas. They’re signed by the author and Jon suggests maybe they can read it together when the New Year comes. She thanks him sincerely and kisses his cheek.

 

Jon ducks his head and moves on.

 

Rhaenys cries when she’s given ballet shoes by the deceased legend. Her tears are more than enough words. Jon takes her hand and smiles at her and she smiles back through watery eyes and they look content to be siblings.

 

Elia’s heart is full that Christmas, and she knows its because of Jon.

 

**)-(**

 

It’s time for the interview.

 

Jon was nervous thirty minutes ago. Now, he’s feeling that nothing can stop him. He’s going to charm the interviewer and the world, and then he’s going to take Sansa out to dinner.

 

A kiss can do that for you.

 

_“Sans, before I go on, I have another gift for you,” he says softly. Sansa smooths down his collar and waits. “You, erm, during our school years, you always said men gave women diamonds because diamonds were filled with promises and intentions.”_

_Sansa’s eyebrows draw closer together. “Yes, I did.”_

_“Well, I saw you looking at this in Paris and I went back and got it,” Jon explains. “The First Edition Les Mis was just something to give you in front of everyone. I wanted to give you this in private.”_

_They’re standing outside the library, where the interview is going to take place. Sansa’s hands shake as Jon presents her with the wide velvet case and opens it. He sees the sparkle of the diamonds reflected on her face from the candles in the hallway. Sansa gasps and covers her mouth._

_On the end of a diamond necklace is a cushion cut ruby pendant. It’s fairly simple, but big enough to be noticeable. Sansa looks at him with wide eyes that sparkle with tears. “How could you give me something worth so much, Jon? Something so special?”_

_“Because I can now, Sansa,” he says softly. “I don’t have anything to do with all this money. Why should I not spend it on people I love? Anyways, this...you deserve things like this, Sansa. No amount of diamonds in the world could ever make you a princess, because you are one already. This just complements what’s already there.”_

_“Jon,” Sansa’s voice cracks. She sets the necklace aside and hugs him tightly. “What a beautiful thing to say.”_

_Jon enjoys the hug and holds her close against him. “I thought you might wear it to the charity ball on New Year’s. With, erm, with me.”_

_Sansa pulls back suddenly, arms still around Jon’s neck. She’s smiling. “Jon, I’ve been waiting ages for you to ask me.”_

_“You have?” Jon asks in surprise. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to be pushy or give unwelcome advances—oomph!”_

_Sansa cuts him off with a kiss. He mostly expected their first kiss to be tender and soft, but Sansa is bubbling with something unnamable and it’s not a tender kiss at all. It’s hard, deep, and sends Jon pushing Sansa against the corridor wall in an attempt to be closer. They kiss for a long moment, Sansa teasing him by running her tongue along his bottom lip before pulling away to press kisses to his stubbly jaw._

_“I love you,” he whispers against her lips. “I’ve loved you for so long, Sansa.”_

_“I love you, Jon,” she breathes back. They kiss, and one of her legs rises up to hook on his thigh as they press closer. “I thought I was being a silly girl with silly dreams when I imagined you might love me too. Falling asleep with you reading was just a way to get you in my bed.”_

_Jon nipped at her neck. “No convincing is needed, love.”_

_Sansa whimpers and moves to kiss him again. It’s a long, dirty kiss and Jon has to remember that he’s about to walk into a room with three women in his biological family. He can’t very well be_ standing at attention.

 

_So, they pull apart for Jon to calm down. Sansa fixes his appearance, smoothing his tie and trying to get the wrinkle out of his pants. Once she deems him presentable, she kisses him again. “I love you. You’ll be brilliant. Please just be yourself and know that we’ll be watching and supporting.”_

_Jon kisses her again. This time it’s gentle, as their lips stay closed and he trails a finger down her jaw as he pulls away. “I love you, too. Thank you.”_

_She smiles brilliantly at him and walks away, necklace in hand._

 

Jon thinks it’s given him enough courage.

 

**)-(**

 

“That was splendid,” Elia tells Jon. She lays a hand on his cheek. “You did so well.”

 

He scratches his beard. “I would have been a mess without you all.”

 

“Nonsense,” Rhaenys bumps their shoulders together. “Now I want lunch. What do you all say?”

 

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Dany encourages. “You all enjoy. I need to get back to King’s Landing as soon as possible, though.”

 

Jon looks saddened, so Elia grasps his arm. “You can call your aunt any time.”

 

“And I will certainly be calling you,” Dany mentions. She stands on her toes to kiss Jon’s cheek before doing the same to Rhaenys. “I’ll let you all know when I’ve landed safely. I’ll be back in three days for the party.”

 

As Dany heads to her rooms to gather her things, Jon leads Rhaenys and Elia to the dining room. The Starks are already sat down to eat, but there’s a few seats next to Sansa. Jon slips into one and she squeezes his thigh under the table.

 

Desire shoots through him and he remembers that he can touch now. So, he leans over and presses a kiss to her cheekbone, which she smiles at.

 

“Fucking finally!” Theon and Arya groan in unison. Sansa rolls her eyes and Catelyn admonishes them for their talk in front of the princess and the duchess. They ignore the matriarch and exchange money.

 

Sansa looks affronted. “ _You bet on my love life_?”

 

**)-(**

 

Elia is putting on the final touches of her make up when Jon and Rhaenys enter her chambers without knocking. She continues with her blush. “I’m so pleased that my children are comfortable enough to enter my chambers without asking, despite my knowledge that neither were raised in any sort of barn.”

 

Jon looks sheepish and Rhaenys unapologetic. They both look remarkable, however, and Elia has to turn and take them in. Dany insisted on wearing ancient Targaryen colors. Jon looks handsome in his black tuxedo with a shirt to match the rubies on his rings. Rhaenys is dresses in a shimmering black dress that hugs her thin figure. The neckline is plunging, but it carries her family pendant well. It’s going to shine perfectly in the candlelight Elia knows Catelyn Stark has set up. Rubies drop from her ears as well. They both look expensive and more alike than she’s realized before. Even though Jon carries many of Lyanna’s features, he is still Rhaegar’s son.

 

“My darlings.” Elia is breathless. “You look magnificent. Both so much like your father.”

 

Jon looks embarrassed but has learned not to shift at compliments in the past two weeks. “Thank you, Elia. You look extraordinary.”

 

“Radiant, Mama,” Rhaenys agreed.

 

Elia thinks her dress should be worn on someone prettier, but she thanks the children anyway. “We’ll be meeting your aunt at the doors to the ballroom, correct?”

 

“We are being introduced as special guests,” Jon agrees. “Sansa will be with me as my girlfriend and my date. Rhaenys is bringing…”

 

“Sansa got me a date,” Rhaenys says slowly. “And I’m very excited because now that Jon is heir, I don’t have to worry about marrying a man.”

 

Elia raises an eyebrow. She always suspected Rhaenys simply had no attraction to any sex; she never showed interest. Now, she looks like she’s brimming with excitement.

 

“Mama,” Rhaenys says slowly. “I’m bringing a woman.”

 

Elia pauses.

 

“Romantically? I always thought you were asexual.”

 

Rhaenys still looks nervous. “I like girls, Mama.”

 

“Would you like to know a secret?” Elia whispers. She looks at Jon, now. “Your father wasn’t the only one enchanted by Lyanna Dayne.”

 

“Why did you never say?” Rhaenys asks quietly. “You—does anyone know?”

 

_“When does Rhaegar come home?” Lyanna whispers, lips at Elia’s ears._

_“Three days,” Elia whispers back. They always whisper, even if they’re sure they’re alone. “He’s coming back in the evening.”_

_“Thank God.” Lyanna pulls at Elia’s sweater. She’s young and beautiful and deserves to be more than something men use to advance themselves. “Do you want to go to the cabin this weekend?”_

_“Yes,” Elia answers. “I’ll call someone in the morning.”_

_“Good. Now, kiss me. It’s been too long.”_

 

“I grew up in a different time,” Elia sighs. “But I’m proud of you. I love you, Rhaenys. I look forward to meeting her.”

 

Rhaenys waves at her eyes and double checks her mascara. “We should get going.”

 

As her daughter bustles from the room, Jon remains behind. He stares at Elia with that knowing look in his eyes she’s come to realize must have been from Lyanna. Rhaegar never saw what was right in front of him—or never cared to. “There’s more, isn’t there? I remember when I came across you in the library. The way you looked at those pictures…you knew my mother. Were you just enchanted by her or were you…did you _know_ her? Intimately?”

 

“Maybe this is a talk for another time,” Elia tells him. He crouches down in front of her and Elia feels too many things. She sighs and pats his cheek. “Your mother was pushed towards Rhaegar when she and I started spending time together. She and I hadn’t…”

 

Elia takes a breath.

 

“She was engaged to Robert Baratheon, not by her desires. She was doing it because her father was not a good man and he had leverage over her. She was unhappy. We met at a polo tournament and became fast friends. She was the first person I confided in that I wasn’t fulfilled in my marriage. She confided the same in her engagement and we began spending time together. She was so vibrant and full of life. I was enchanted by her. Unfortunately, so was Rhaegar.”

 

Jon waits.

 

“And by the time Rhaegar had taken her to bed, she came to me crying. I held her, and she wept. She said she loved me, that she hated everything about being born into nobility. She wished things were different. That weekend, I told Rhaegar I was going on a health retreat. Lyanna and I spent the weekend pretending we were going to run away together. You see, darling, it’s not so easy to explain. Love and emotions and duty…it’s all terribly unfair. And your mother took the worst of it.”

 

Jon blinks rapidly and reaches for his handkerchief. He slowly lifts it to Elia’s face and wipes the tears that must have spilled. “I loved her, and she loved me. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me about you. I would have helped her. She just…Rhaegar came to me and said he knew about our relationship and that he sent her away. I looked for her, but I thought she had taken money and left the city. Rhaegar lied to me.”

 

“He wasn’t a very good man, was he?” Jon rasps.

 

“He was selfish,” Elia confesses. “Always selfish, thinking about his own goals and expecting everyone else to do the same. Lyanna paid the price. If she’d been in King’s Landing, we could have…maybe she wouldn’t have gotten sick, I don’t know. He shouldn’t have sent her away. She shouldn’t have left.”

 

Jon finishes wiping her tears and blinks away his own. “That’s why you would have loved me like your own child. Not because I was Rhaegar’s son, but because I was _her_ son.”

 

“I would have loved you because you are kind, because you smile like her, and because you think about literally everyone else above yourself. I would have adored you because of _you,_ Jon. You’re an extraordinary young man.”

 

He looks down and swallows. “Have you ever loved anyone else?”

 

“I’m afraid not,” Elia says. “There is nobody like your mother. And I know that you will be a better king than Rhaegar. You’ll make a better husband. A better man.”

 

Jon thanks her. She kisses his cheek and they stand. He offers his arm and they leave her chambers for the party in silence. The next ten minutes pass with meeting Margaery Tyrell. She’s a fashion designer who dresses Sansa as practice and makes her the other woman look stunning. She made the dress Sansa currently wears—one the same red as Jon’s shirt. A beautiful ruby pendant hangs on Sansa’s chest as if a Targaryen has laid claim to her. Looking at how Jon looks at her, its clear he has.

 

They’re quite the pair, Elia thinks, and Sansa will be a lovely princess.

 

Jon and Sansa stun the audience with their beauty and their dancing. Margaery Tyrell looks brilliant on Rhaenys’ arm and Rhaenys looks radiantly happy.

 

Coming to Winterfell was the best decision for them.

 

**)-(**

 

Life goes back into a routine of sorts. With Jon in Highgarden, closer to King’s Landing, Elia sees him every two weekends. Most often, he brings Sansa to the palace and has her stay there. Elia gets to really know him on his own and with Sansa.

 

When its just the two of them, Jon tells her all about his life, whether its catching up on his current doings or telling him about his childhood. They drink tea and discussed novels, movies, and whatever else they can think of. She cherishes those moments where his attention is fully on her. Learning to love Jon is a privilege as she begins to understand his gentle, yet strong nature.

 

When Sansa is around, Jon is completely focused on the Stark girl. He pays attention to every word she speaks, makes sure she has a drink refill or a cup of tea. He’s always aware of her presence and fondly teasing her or speaking with her. Elia loves watching the two interact almost as much as she loves watching Jon and Rhaenys interact.

 

The two siblings act as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. Rhaenys is more comfortable with him than she is with anyone else. It’s a mystery to Elia, as they don’t watch the same movies or read the same books. Jon tries, however, and Elia has caught him cringing through a story more than once in an effort to have a connection. He waves her off when she laughs at him and loves him just a little bit more.

 

“What do you and Rhaenys even talk about?” she asks.

 

He shrugs. “Everything.”

 

Elia thinks that’s better than talking about movies.

 

On one of his visits, Jon is sat in a chair in the library to read in silent companionship with Elia. She notices his kisses with Sansa are lasting longer when they part and decides to voice her wonderings.

 

“Darling,” she says gently. He looks up warmly, patiently awaiting her question. He’s a clever young man, quick to notice her different tones and what they mean. “Is marriage on your mind?”

 

Jon colors almost instantly. “Why do you ask?”

 

“You seem awfully in love with Sansa,” Elia speaks carefully. “She’s so lovely and pleasant, and you’re always so animated and happy around her. She’ll be a perfect princess.”

 

“I don’t—” Jon swallows. “I don’t know if Sansa is ready for that. I don’t want to push.”

 

“I don’t think it’s pushing,” Elia shrugs. “Ask her, in a casual way, if she’s thought about it at all. If she seems receptive, you could ask. If she doesn’t, enjoy loving her until she’s ready.”

 

“That’s what Rhaenys said.”

 

“Your sister is smart. You should listen to her.”

 

“And to you?”

 

“Well, that’s implied.”

 

He stands, closing his book and pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

“And where exactly are you going?”

 

“I’m going to bed, where there is no talk of my love life.”

 

“Goodnight, darling,” she sings teasingly.

 

He rolls his eyes but bends down to kiss her cheek. “Night, Mum.”

 

He walks a few paces away before either recognize what he’s said. When he turns back again, he’s stammering and floundering and Elia’s heart swells. She tries to stall her tears and blows a kiss. “Sleep well, _mijo_.”

 

He beams and turns back around.

 

Elia is left to her book, but she cannot focus. _I have a son_ , she thinks. _Lyanna’s son thinks of me as a mother._

_In another life, we could have both been his mother._

 

**)-(**

 

Elia decides to go to Highgarden with Rhaenys in the middle of the week. They pick up Margaery and surprise Sansa at her office; they crow with pleasure when her employees shoo her from the building. The four of them spend a day getting mani/pedis, shopping, and drinking their way through the city. By the end of the night, they collapse onto Jon’s living room floor with giggles and the need for a solid meal. Elia sobers up with bread and water before teaching her stepson to make tamales.

 

“I’m never going to be able to do this right,” Jon sighs as he pokes at an over-done tamale. Looking up Elia, he looks sullener than ever. “I hope you’ll be a hands-on grandmother because this is what you’ll be teaching them.”

 

Elia takes that moment to look at Jon with tears in her eyes (maybe she isn’t that sober). “You want me to be grandmother to your children?”

 

“Of course,” Jon shrugs. “We’ll teach them to speak Dornish as they grow up, so they’ll know to call you their _abuela_ , and Rhaenys their _tia_.”

 

He pauses.

 

“I need to learn Dornish fluently. How can my mum be Dornish and I don’t speak it well? Rosetta Stone isn’t cutting it. I’ll take classes.”

 

Elia loves him more and more every day.

 

**)-(**

 

In the summer, Dany invites Jon, Margaery, and all of the Starks on vacation to Italy. Together, they travel all over the country, touring vineyards, enjoying island retreats, eating more food than strictly necessary, and watching Sansa and Jon grow closer. Elia is pleased when she returns from a walk one night to see Sansa and Jon on the patio. He’s on one knee and Sansa is covering her mouth. She thinks she should keep walking, but she can’t draw her eyes away.

 

“You too?”

 

Elia jumps and turns. Catelyn is leaning against a pillar, wrapped in a sweater to keep the wind from chilling her. “I was walking, and now I can’t look away.”

 

“Exactly,” Catelyn whispers. She moves closer to Elia. “I wonder what he’s saying.”

 

“Something selfless and beautiful.”

 

They stand together and watch Jon reach into his pocket and pull out a ring. Elia leans over to whisper, “What ring is that? I can’t see it from here and he didn’t ask about any royal jewels.”

 

“It was Lyanna’s,” Catelyn says. When Elia looks over, she knows that Catelyn _knows_. “She said someone she loved very much gave it to her. When she got sick, she asked if we would keep it for Jon to give someone when he proposed.”

 

“My mother’s ring,” Elia breathes shakily. “I gave it to Lyanna the first time she told me she loved me. She wore it whenever Rhaegar wasn’t around and said it gave her strength. I’m glad Sansa will wear it.”

 

“I am too.” Catelyn places her arm around Elia and the two watch the ring go on Sansa’s finger. The couple before them kisses. When the kiss intensifies, they go their separate ways and Elia stays up all night, watching the sky darken and lighten and thinking about Lyanna.

 

_“Let’s run away,” Lyanna sighs. She looks radiant, eyes closed, and face tilted to the sun. “We’ll go to Dorne, hide out with Oberyn.”_

_“We can stay in his house by the ocean,” Elia answers. “The sun sets beautifully, and the staff keeps to themselves. I can cook for you and teach you the language. We’ll hide from the world.”_

_“For the rest of our lives,” Lyanna sighs. “I’ll teach Aegon and Daenerys to ride horses. They’ll be almost as competitive as me by the time they’re teenagers.”_

_“Will you teach them to win more awards than you?”_

_“I’m not that good of a mentor, dearest.” Lyanna comes away from the window and climbs back into bed. She lays on her stomach as her hair splays across her naked back. “I love you, Elia. If my father wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my brother and sister…”_

_“Rhaegar would never let me take the children, anyways.” Elia strokes Lyanna’s shoulder and lets her hand wonder down to her lover’s bum. It sometimes still shocks her that she is allowed to touch. “He sees them as belonging to him, part of his great plan, especially as conceiving a second child is proving difficult for me. I want nothing more than to take them and hide away with you, but he would discover us.”_

_Lyanna moves closer now, her chin resting on Elia’s shoulder and her frustration clear. “The storybooks say that love can conquer all, but I love you with every bone in my body and we are stuck in this bloody mess.”_

_“Things will be better for women when our children grow up,” Elia decides. “Our children will love who they wish to love, be who they wish to be. We will raise boys into men who value women for more than what their bodies can do for them. Aegon will be nothing like Rhaegar, or your father.”_

_“I like that plan,” Lyanna whispers. She kisses Elia then, moving to let their bodies slot against each other. Elia always thinks they’re a perfect match as she lets her hands wonder and her lips move eagerly._

_Elia loves Lyanna, and she wants a better world for their children. She will_ make _a better world for their children._

 

A knock comes to her door. “Mum?”

 

Jon.

 

He brings her breakfast and tells her he’s asked Sansa to marry him. Elia kisses his cheeks and demands grandchildren soon. When he rolls his eyes, she smiles and tells him how truly happy she is for him. They hug, she demands all the details, and Sansa soon comes to show off the ring. The vintage, oval shaped diamond sparkles up at Elia from Sansa’s pale hand. It looks at home and she thinks Lyanna would have been proud.

 

**)-(**

 

Sansa and Jon get married that year. Their wedding ceremony is publicized, and Sansa is an absolute vision in white. Jon looks over the moon and Elia loves them both.

 

Their reception is private but is gorgeous and romantic. Sansa dances with her father, and Jon surprises Elia by asking her to dance with him. They twirl around the dance floor to Elia’s favorite song and he whispers in her ear that he’s glad they’ve come together and that he has his own side of family in all of this. Elia does not cry but pats his cheek and tells him she loves him dearly. She and Sansa dance next, surrounded by people, and Sansa whispers that she might be pregnant already.

 

Elia is thrilled. “We need a Princess Lyanna, I think.”

 

Eight months later, a Prince Robb is born to the palace and Elia thinks he’s the most perfect babe to have ever existed. That is, until Jon leaves the delivery room with a second babe, carrying tufts of black curls and not crying a bit. She’s named Lyanna, and Jon places the babe in Elia’s arms with a proud, watery smile.

 

She may have lost her love and her son, but she now has a full family built of love.

 

She has Jon.

 

 _Thank you, Lyanna,_ she thinks. _I’ll cherish him forever._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm maywildflowers on tumblr. hit me up for a trash can of my faves


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